Yesterday, Lisa Costello, the_child and I went to the hospital for my chemotherapy session. This series is light artillery indeed compared to what we've done in the past, but it still took three hours to get in and out of there. That was also the first time the_child had been with me during a chemo session. Now she knows it's mostly boring.

Afterwards, there was an impromptu family dinner attended by a number of us, but not quite the whole clan. There I bestowed upon my sister (a/k/a lilypond) my ICFA badge, which Neil Gaiman had most graciously signed for her. (His inscription is funny as heck, too.)

Sounds like one of DS's Remicade infusion series. We eventually got those down to a routine. The long infusions he underwent while we were managing his rate reactions led to a series of cross-stitch pillowcases (I still have a lot of unfinished/unstarted ones around here) because he needed someone around to keep an eye on him as well as the nurses--if a panic reaction started, well, that infusion was blown and he needed someone around to prevent a panic reaction. The short infusions at full speed were much better, as he didn't need someone with him.

Toby Buckell's space books will forever be linked in my mind with those infusions because I read them during, as are Ken's books. I also did quite a bit of my sped licensure coursework during those infusions as the longest infusions happened while I was still in school taking classes. The best was when I was taking a severe disabilities class and researching a particularly hideous epilepsy syndrome--mentioned it to the nurses and got an earful about it.